


Birds of a Feather

by nereidee (aurasama)



Category: Amnesia: The Dark Descent, Penumbra (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 14:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21272723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurasama/pseuds/nereidee
Summary: "The more he tried to force his memories of those long, horrible days in the mine away the more persistently they clung to him. He supposed it was fitting; dead men had little else for company than their sins."Philip and Daniel meet after death and realise they have something very painful in common that prevents them both from moving on.





	Birds of a Feather

The screaming wouldn't stop. No matter how he tried to block it out it just went on and on, the dreadful, animalistic screams of a man at death's door, but it seemed to take forever; death would not come and end the agony.  
  
“Red!”  
  
Philip stood up abruptly, hands clamped over his mouth. He was shaking all over. He could still smell it, burning flesh and cloth, and he could feel bile rising to his throat at the memory. A hand touched his shoulder in the dark and he yelled, or tried to, but all that came out was a hoarse yelp.  
  
“It's all right. It's just me.”  
  
“Daniel?” he croaked. The hand on his shoulder withdrew.  
  
“Hang on,” Daniel murmured. He heard the rustle of fabric as Daniel rummaged the backpack for something, and after a moment a flame sparked into life, soft lantern light illuminating the space they were huddled in. Daniel looked very pale, paler even than usual, and there was a worried look in his eyes as he stared at Philip.  
  
“Are you all right? You were yelling in your sleep,” he said and shifted closer, careful to watch his head in the cramped space.  
  
Philip let his hands fall down on his lap. His throat ached, as though he'd come down with a bad cold, and there was a sinking feeling in his gut. The dreams just would not relent, no matter what he did.  
  
“Just… just a bad dream, is all.”  
  
Daniel managed a small smile that died almost instantly. “Yes, I figured. Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
Philip was quiet for a long time. What he wanted, not even he knew. The more he tried to force his memories of those long, horrible days in the mine away the more persistently they clung to him. He supposed it was fitting; dead men had little else for company than their sins. He couldn’t recall how he’d died or when, but Philip knew there was no other explanation for his current whereabouts or condition. He no longer heard the Tuurngait in his head, and the thirst and hunger that had plagued him during his last days in life were gone as if they’d never existed.  
  
“Philip?”  
  
And then there was Daniel. The English he spoke was strange, his tattered clothes vaguely resembling something that looked straight out of a period drama, and Philip came to the same conclusion he had many times before. This was death, plain and simple. He had never been a religious person, but he didn’t have to ask to know why he kept having these dreams.  
  
“He wanted to die. He told me to kill him and I did, because they wouldn't let him die,” Philip heard himself whisper. A weight had settled on his chest, as though he'd only just stood in that room listening to Red's – Tom Redwood's – final, agonising moments of life as he slowly burned to death. “How could I do that? Why – why did I... I...“  
  
The words wouldn't come; all he could do was stare at his own hands, at how they trembled, and he opened and closed his mouth mutely like gasping for air. Daniel scooted closer. There was a profoundly sad expression on his face and he said nothing for a while, and Philip had the impression that he, too, found himself at a loss for words.  
  
Daniel took a steadying breath and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Does it come to your dreams often?”  
  
“All the time. When I'm able to sleep, anyway.”  
  
“Same with me.”  
  
“Guess I didn't wake you up, then.”  
  
“Not really. If I'm honest, I can't even remember the last time I slept properly.”  
  
Philip hesitated. This was something he hadn't wanted to bring up without Daniel's initiation. When they tried to rest he'd just lie on his side, facing away from Philip, too unnaturally still to be asleep. Even the smallest noise made him start, and once or twice Philip had found him curled up in a fetal position, staring bug-eyed into the darkness, wide awake and terrified.  
  
“What happened to you?” Philip said, finally breaking the silence.  
  
Daniel took his hand between both of his own and gave it a squeeze. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out, his gaze unfocused, distant. Philip had the impression that he was struggling with words but finally, after several long minutes, he answered.  
  
“Do you remember what I told you about Brennenburg? About Alexander?”  
  
“Yeah. You said… you said something about how he made you do bad things – tricked you into thinking that it would save your life.”  
  
Daniel pursed his lips, eyes shutting momentarily, and his gaze was pained when he opened them again. “That wasn't the whole of the story. Most of that was me – all me.” He paused, voice dropping. “I did something cowardly and tried to purge my memories, so I could get away from the guilt. But something like that, it never truly leaves you.”  
  
Philip stared. There was a hollow feeling in his gut that had just worsened with every word, and the look on Daniel's face confirmed his suspicion.  
  
_He's just like me, then._  
  
“Did you… kill someone, too?”  
  
Daniel said nothing. Philip squeezed his hand back, gripping it so hard that it was starting to hurt. “Daniel?”  
  
To his shock he saw a tear slide down Daniel's cheek, then another, further smudging his already dirt-stained face. He was looking everywhere but Philip as he nodded.  
  
“It comes to my dreams constantly. And I deserve it,” he said with a strangled voice, as though every word was causing him agony. “But you don't. You're different.”  
  
Philip forced a smile. “Am I? Or are we both just bloody fucking murderers?”  
  
The words burned in Philip's mouth like acid, escaping him before he could stop himself, and immediately hated himself for it; Daniel had flinched at the tone of his voice as though struck.  
  
“Sorry,” Philip muttered. He held tight Daniel's hand and squeezed it again, more gently this time. “Didn't mean that.”  
  
Daniel shook his head. “No, you're right. That's what I am. A bloody murderer, nothing more.”  
  
“Well, that makes two of us, then.”  
  
“But your circumstances were different. You didn't kill that man to save yourself, you just—“  
  
“Doesn't matter. Murder's murder, no matter why it happened.”  
  
“How can you stand it?”  
  
He laughed, the sound utterly without humour or emotion. It sounded distorted even to his own ears and the words burst out as though someone else was speaking through him. “What other choice do I have? What choice does either of us have?”  
  
He hadn't meant to shout or to raise his voice at all, yet he did just so, and Philip knew the anger was all him. All him, not Clarence; his head, his anger, they were all just his. Daniel pulled his hand away, looking alarmed.  
  
“Sorry, mate,” Philip said. He reached a hand towards the other man and felt a stab in his heart as Daniel flinched at the touch. He was shaking all over, eyes shut, head turned away from him, and Philip placed a hand on his shoulder tentatively, grasping it once before negotiating an arm around his shoulders.  
  
“It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you,” he said quietly, wondering if he wasn't just making it worse. Seconds passed in silence and then, with a shuddering sigh, Daniel slumped against him, leaning his forehead on Philip's shoulder. He could feel how the man's whole frame shook with silent sobs and he rubbed his back slowly, unsure of what else to do. He'd lived alone most of his adult life if one did not count the occasional attempt at a relationship here and there, but they'd all been short-lived. Comfort, touch; these things felt so distant to him that they could have been just flashes from someone else's life or a movie he'd seen once upon a time. “Sorry, I'm just… sorry. For yelling.”  
  
Daniel didn't respond. Wordlessly, Philip wrapped his arms around him and simply held him as he cried, and he would have been lying if he claimed there wasn't something comforting about his closeness. Once upon a time he might have found it disgusting, holding someone who'd just confessed to murder, but who was he to judge. He'd been a better man back then; they both had, he guessed. It felt a lifetime ago now.  
  
Birds of a feather, the two of them. And he could tell Daniel understood.  
  
“What the hell happened to you to make you like this?” he murmured, though he knew Daniel wasn't likely to answer.  
  
_Guess I could ask myself the same thing,_ he thought. He felt his arms clench around Daniel as something tightened in his chest, the images coming to him in flashes; Red, screaming as his life ended in agony; Amabel, dead on the floor in a pool of her own blood; the Tuurngait entering his mind and shredding it into pieces. And he wished he could cry, too, so that the sheer horror of it would finally dislodge and let him go, but no tears, no relief whatsoever came. He found his fingers pushing in Daniel's hair and gently carding through it, caressing him, only realising what he was doing when the man leaned his head against the touch.  
  
“You don't have to stop,” Daniel said, voice muffled against Philip's jacket.  
  
His mouth felt drier than the desert all of a sudden. “Huh?”  
  
“Please. Don't stop.”  
  
“I… Yeah. Sure.”  
  
Daniel’s breathing eased slowly, little by little. What a luxury it was, the comfort of being close to another person like this, Philip thought. Daniel looked up with tired eyes, and Philip felt something within him loosing its hold almost painfully at it. He wasn't sure which one of them leaned in first or if they both did it at the same time, but Daniel's mouth was warm against his, answering his kisses just as eagerly. His arm went around Philip's waist to pull him closer and Philip let him, drawn to his irresistible warmth. When they pulled away Daniel had gone all red in the face, a look of shock in his green eyes.  
  
“I'm so sorry,” he said, panic-stricken. “I didn't mean to— I don't know what overcame me, I just—“  
  
Philip placed a finger on his lips, startling him into silence. “Well, I _did_ mean it, and I don't want you to apologise.”  
  
And with that he leaned closer, close enough to feel Daniel's breath against his mouth again, and waited. Slowly, tentatively, Daniel closed the distance between them, his lips barely grazing against Philip's at first. Philip's hands came to cup Daniel's face as he kissed him back and then Daniel's fingers were digging into his shirt for support as he kissed Philip hungrily. Small, muffled noises escaped him, hands roaming all over Philip's chest, arms, every inch of him that was within reach it seemed. He let Daniel push him down, arms still around him.  
  
Daniel said nothing as he rested his head against Philip’s chest, and for a while they simply lay there, holding each other.  
  
“What’ll happen to us, I wonder?” Daniel muttered. Philip went back to stroking his hair as he thought.  
  
“No idea.”  
  
“When I awoke here, I believed this was hell. That this was my punishment for what I did.” A pause. “Now I am not so sure. Perhaps this is purgatory. Perhaps we’re meant to move on eventually.”  
  
“I don’t know if I can.”  
  
“Me neither.” Daniel sighed. “I’m so tired. Everything hurts.”  
  
“Try to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
“All right.”  
  
Philip closed his eyes and they spoke no more. He listened as Daniel’s breathing slowed down, his arms growing lax around him until Philip, too, yielded and let sleep claim him.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something from Philip's POV for a change. He's probably my favourite FG protagonist after Daniel - there's something very relatable about his character. I rarely write crossovers, but I have a particularly soft spot for these two, and there is not enough fic about them. The dynamic between them is very interesting imho. They have many things in common, but their motivations, personalities and reasons couldn't be more different.


End file.
